


The Orange Soda Fic

by Thehunterssavior



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Butt Plugs, Choking, Enemas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 04:04:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11661258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thehunterssavior/pseuds/Thehunterssavior
Summary: I'm going to hell for this.





	The Orange Soda Fic

**Author's Note:**

> I did not write this fanfiction, it is just a Daryl and Jesus version on the infamous ryden milk fic with a few changes.  
> All credit goes to the original writer druscilla_way of this fic.

Daryl was kneeling in the bathtub, a towel under his knees and another under his hands, his head turned as he craned his neck to watch Paul working. The younger man swirled the spoon around in the over-large bowl before tapping it against the rim and laying it on the counter. "You know it'll cool down a little once I get it in the bag, but is that good?" Paul bent over next to the tub so Daryl could slowly dip two fingers into the bowl, nodding once.

"It's fine."

Paul nodded again, reaching out to stroke Daryl's hair before standing back up and returning to the sink, where all of the equipment was spread out. The hook was already hanging from the shower curtain so Paul could hang the bag as soon as it was full. "Go ahead and take the plug out, baby." His voice was soft, gentle. "And start with your fingers."

It was the gentlest of their "darker" interludes. No name-calling or hair pulling or punishments for noises of pain. It hurt enough on it's own, was degrading enough on it's own, Paul didn't need to add anything to that.

Paul felt a small tremor run through his body as he heard the soft moan coming from the bathtub, knew the other man had just extracted the plug. He glanced up at the mirror, watching the man set the glass plug on the edge of the tub next to the bottle of lubricant. Daryl picked up the bottle, desperate to fill himself as he opened it, dripping some of the lubricant onto his fingers and rubbing them. It was cold to the initial touch, but warmed up as his fingers moved.

"You're so fucking hot like that, baby," Paul purred, from the sink where the bag was nearly half full. "Now, go ahead."

Daryl flushed warm from the compliment, his wrist sliding down along his waist, hipbone, the curve of his ass. And then his fingers were poised, resting against his entrance before pressing in. He was already loose from the plug so it was an easy intrusion. He didn't even bother with more lubricant before pressing a third finger in, moaning outright at the stretch. He started as he heard the click from Paul hanging the bag. "Already?"

"Don't sound so disappointed," the man chided softly. "You can keep your fingers in for a second." He almost added a soft 'slut', but stopped himself. Paul leaned down, reaching for the bottle of lubricant, letting himself hover over Daryl for a moment, his breath tickling the back of the man's neck. "Just think about everything I'll do after," he whispered before straightening back up and slicking lube across the tip of the nozzle and his own fingers. "Okay."

Daryl whined, but slowly pulled his fingers out anyway. He wasn't empty for longer than a few seconds, Paul's fingers immediately sliding over his opening before pressing in, then pulling out to press in the tip of the nozzle. "Breathe," he murmured, fingers running down the man's spine. "I'm going to now, okay?"

"Wait," Daryl choked out.

"I'm going to now," Paul repeated, voice a little harder this time. "You're fine." He kept his fingers running along the man's spine as he loosened the clamp.

Daryl bit his bottom lip, moaning as he felt the first rush of the warm orange soda sliding into his body. The beginning of the enema was always like Paul's fingers were now, smooth and soft almost. The cramps would come soon enough, but Paul's fingers would still be the same.

When they started, one of Daryl's hands flew up to his stomach and Paul stopped the flow without a word, letting the other man massage his abdomen to ease the pain. "Just tell me."

"Okay," Daryl whispered, his hand still on his stomach. Paul loosed the clamp again and Daryl felt the warmth continuing to enter his body. He continued to try to massage away the dull ache of the cramps as he felt his stomach slowly begin to expand from the amount of liquid he'd taken. "Stop," he choked out again. He wasn't supposed to ask how much, but he was desperate to know. He'd felt like he'd taken half already, but he knew it was probably more like a quarter of the bag. "Paul?" he asked, voice close to cracking. "I-I . . . Paul ." His voice was weak.

"You're doing great, baby." The man leaned down, letting soft kisses feather along Daryl's lower back. "So good."

The tears were starting to build up. Daryl could feel them in his chest, waiting there, another ache in his body. "I don't . . . I . . ." He let his head fall forward, trying to slow his breathing, trying to focus on Paul's fingers instead of the liquid inside him. "Okay," he whispered,voice cracking as the first tears slid down his cheeks.

The flow continued and Paul slowed the flow without a say so after five minutes or so. "You're taking it so well, Daryl," he cooed. "You've got half." He usually didn't tell Daryl how much he'd taken, but it had been awhile since they'd done this and he didn't want the man to break before he managed to get both quarts in.

"Half?" Daryl asked, voice timid, as if he wasn't sure if he should be relieved or disconcerted.

"Mhmmm." Paul leaned forward, letting his lips kiss the back of Daryl's neck, then between the man's shoulder blades. "Are you ready for more?" When Daryl hesitated, Paul squeezed his hip. "You can take it, baby. You've done this before."

Daryl's head nodded a fraction of an inch, his breathing already labored. He gave a small squeak as the orange soda started slipping into his body again. "Please, please, I can't." He shook his head, the tears coming out for real now. Paul clamped the nozzle again. "I can't, Paul, please. I . . . I need to . . . please."

The younger man reached his hand down to Daryl's stomach, the curve of a belly that wasn't there usually. "I know you can take this," he said, voice low but not angry or disappointed. "I know you can, Daryl." He let their fingertips brush. "But I won't make you," he added. "It's up to you."

Daryl hated that. It would have been so much easier to go along with it if Paul hadn't give him the choice. Now it was up to him to decide if he wanted to be selfish and disappoint his boyfriend and not get rewarded or just go along with it and deal with the pain. "I'll try," he mumbled weakly, squeezing his eyes shit and biting his bottom lip between his teeth as he felt the flow again.

Paul slipped his hand down Daryl's stomach to wrap around his cock, gently stroking, trying to turn the whimpers that the older man was now making into moans. "So good, baby," he kept whispering over and over. "You're taking it so good."

"H-Hurts," Daryl choked out. "Break?"

Paul locked the clamp again, letting Daryl rub at his stomach and try to catch his breath. "It's almost all in," he said gently, still stroking the other man's erection. "Just a little bit more. I know you can take it, Daryl."

"How much?"

The question hung heavy in the air for a moment. Daryl wasn't supposed to ask and he knew it, but he also knew Paul never spanked him or punished him during an enema, so the worst possibility was simply that the other boy wouldn't tell him.

"Probably four ounces," Paul answered finally. "I'm going to start it again, okay? You can take this all in one go."

Daryl nodded, gritting his teeth and counting silently in his head, hoping it wouldn't take longer than a minute to finish. He was only a few seconds over when the flow stop and Paul planted a kiss to the small of Daryl's back. "I'm going to switch it out for the plug, okay? Keep it in."

Daryl tightened his muscles, his toes curling as he did so. It hurt, tensing up along with the dull ache in his abdomen. Even with all his tightening, a little bit of the orange soda/water mixture escaped, sliding down the inside of his thigh. Then the plug was in and he could relax his muscles, but only somewhat. Paul picked up a washcloth and wiped at the liquid that had slid down Daryl's skin.

It wouldn't be too long, Daryl knew, but it always seemed an eternity. Five minutes or ten minutes could feel like hours. Paul's fingers slid up Daryl's back until they were twisted, gently, in his hair. "I can't wait to get you on the bed," he said thickly, voice low and gravely. "Gonna shove my tongue in you so deep, baby."

Daryl moaned outright, despite the dull pain in his muscles and stomach. It was a low moan, soft, but a moan nonetheless, and Paul smiled at the sound. "Is that what you want?" the younger man continued in the same tone. "You want my tongue in you, want me fucking your ass with my mouth? You're going to taste so fucking good, baby." His fingers tightened slightly in Daryl's hair. Not enough to cause any pain, just enough to make the boy gasp, then moan again. "Then I'll fuck you. So hard, baby, so God damn hard. So deep inside you. And then you'll take my come in your pretty mouth."

Daryl was whimpering, his hips moving ever so slightly, squirming. "P-Please?" he choked out. "Please?" He was begging for release. He knew it hadn't been long enough, but if Paul kept it up, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold it in.

"I think you can hold it for another couple of minutes." But Paul let go of Daryl's hair and sat back slightly, just letting his hands run slowly up the man's sides. The older man was quiet, just a few whimpers leaving his mouth, but still squirming. Paul let his hands slip lower until he was firmly squeezing Daryl's ass in both hands. "Almost, baby. Almost."

There was another minute or so, Paul's fingers skimming over the curve of Daryl's cheeks and the older man trying not to lose anything, trying to keep his muscles tensed just enough. "Okay." Paul stood up, slowly, kissing Daryl on the back of the neck before stepping out of the tub. "Slowly," he warned the man. "Don't lose anything, okay?" He held his hands out, letting Daryl take them as he stood and gingerly climbed out of the tub.

Paul lifted up the lid of the toilet seat and helped Daryl to sit. This was always when Daryl started to cry again. He hated it, hated how Paul was there for the release. So humiliating, worse than threats of letting Rick watch or having Negan fuck him that one time while Paul took Polaroids. "Please, just . . . I can," Daryl said. "I'm fine. I can."

Paul looked stern, frowning, shaking his head slightly. "Stop."

Daryl cried harder, bringing his hands up to push at Paul when the man moved closer, but too submissive to actually to do it as the man reached between his legs, fingers closing around the end of the plug. "Please," Daryl whispered again. "Please, Paul."

The man ignored him. "Don't let it go until I tell you to." He let Daryl's face fall into his shoulder. The man was shaking from his choked sobs as Paul slowly pulled the plug out. He set it on the counter next to the bowl he had mixed the orange soda and water in. One arm came up around Daryl. Despite his tears, the man was still clenching, tighter than probably necessary. "Okay, go ahead."

Daryl shook his head. "No." He cried harder when Paul pressed his lips against the man's temple. "Please."

"Daryl. Now."

The man was still crying, clinging desperately to Paul as the first drops of the mixture began to slip out. And then, like always, he realized he really had no choice and just let go, sobbing harder as he heard the liquid falling into the toilet. For Paul's part, he just held the man, fingers running down his back, cooing soft sentiments to him. "Good boy, good job, Daryl."

Finally the noises slowed and Paul took a step back, letting Daryl wipe and flush the toilet. They both washed their hands in the sink and Daryl blew his nose. "I'm sorry," he whispered, refusing to look at Paul. "I . . . I didn't mean to . . . I know you won't hurt me."

Paul's cool fingers, still slightly wet from the water, slid under Paul's chin, tilting the man's face up to meet his eyes. "Thank you," he returned, leaning in and kissing him, soft at first, then harder, tongue slipping in. "Bed now," he added, unable to contain his smile as he felt Daryl's lips curve upward against his.

They walked out to the hotel bedroom area and Paul nodded silently, indicating Daryl should assume the position on the bed. "Back or . . . or knees?" 

"Knees if they're not too sore."

Daryl would take a lot more than sore knees for a rimjob, as he'd clearly demonstrated, so Paul nodded his approval as the man got on all fours on the bed. Daryl kept his head facing forward, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder and watch Paul. The younger man loved that, how he didn't have to order the man do it. Daryl obeyed the unspoken command of his own accord.

The bed sunk down as Paul knelt behind Daryl, hands squeezing the man's hips. Paul leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Daryl's entrance, smiling when he heard the moan. His mouth opened, tongue slipping out, licking in broad, even strokes, knowing it would do nothing but tease Daryl, torturing him. And, truthfully, it was all Daryl could do to keep from pressing his ass back on Paul's face while begging 'more more more'.

Paul sat up and leaned forward, pressing two fingers to Daryl's lips. The boy sucked them into his mouth without a word, his tongue sliding around the digits, trying not to get overeager, trying not to just beg Paul to fuck him and start grinding his hips into the bed. When Paul pulled his fingers from the man's mouth, he leaned in for the kiss, smiling as he swallowed the moan from the intrusion of his fingers entering Daryl's hole while they were still kissing.

Then his mouth was gone and Daryl's fingers twisted in the bed sheets knowing what was coming, the muscles in his body tensing in anticipation. Paul's fingers pulled slowly, evenly, opening Daryl up just enough to slip his tongue in, licking around the edge of Daryl's entrance. He licked over his own fingers as he slowly added another digit from each hand, pulling Daryl more open, exposing him more. His tongue slipped in deeper and Daryl tried so hard not to push his ass back on Paul's face.

The younger man's tongue started dipping in and out, slow and first, then quicker. Daryl was moaning, head thrown back, hips barely rocking. Paul pulled his tongue out and his fingers, letting his lips press against the hole that was still open to the air. He began to suck and Daryl let out a stream of expletives that Paul had never heard before. He let up on the pressure, his tongue slipping back inside once more, teasing, pulling out to trace around the inside.

"Fuck me?" Daryl asked, voice high-pitched and uncertain.

Paul pulled off almost immediately, but didn't straighten up yet, pressing two fingers into Daryl abruptly, smirking at the man's gasp. He slowly twisted them. "You want me to fuck you?" he asked as if he hadn't heard, voice casual.

"Please, Paul," the older man returned desperately, pressing back against the fingers, his head falling into the pillows as he collapsed on his arms, support following to his elbows.

The fingers slipped out and Paul helped turned Daryl to his back, kissing him softly on the mouth, enjoying Daryl's tongue probing his mouth curiously, searching for the taste. He pulled away after a moment and the older man gave an airy sort of sigh. Then he was between Daryl's legs, bending them at the knee and separating them, settling between the thighs before he pushed in, no lubricant and no warning.

Daryl made a low noise in the back of his throat at the burn, the stretch. He'd been waiting for this. Paul hadn't fucked him for a week, not properly. Toys and fingers and a fist, but not this. So simple, just them. Nothing artificial. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's neck, leaning up to kiss his neck. They looked like any other couple just then, he mused. No one would have been able to look at this scene and guess that Daryl had just been given a two quart enema or that the other day he'd been made to stand in the corner for an hour after Paul had spanked him fifty times with a hairbrush.

Paul could tell Daryl was thinking and he angled his hips, shoving in roughly. When Daryl's eyes popped open even wider and he let out the tiny squeak, he knew he'd found the spot. All semblance of thought seemed to evaporate from Daryl's features as he just gave in and starting rocking against Paul's hips, moaning. He reached for his boyfriend's hand, pressing the palm against his throat. "Please," he whispered.

Paul didn't need to be told twice, squeezing down on Daryl's neck, releasing after a moment to let him gasp for breath. Then his hand tightened again and they repeated the pattern until his boyfriend started shaking his head, not wanting to use the safe word, but wanting Paul to know he'd had enough. His hand fisted in Daryl's hair then, squeezing tight enough to hurt, but not hard enough to pull the hair out. "Touch yourself," Paul breathed.

Daryl obeyed immediately, one of his hands falling from Paul's neck to slip between them, wrapping around the base of his cock, stroking in a slow rhythm that contrasted with the thrusts. He didn't want to come yet, but he knew he didn't have a choice anyway. He'd come when Paul told him. That was the rule.

"Faster," Paul growled, shifting his weight so he could press in deeper. "I want you close, Daryl. Tell me when you're close."

The man nodded, quickening the speed of wrist obediently, letting his eyes shut for a moment before he opened them back up. Paul liked to watch him, said he could see Daryl melt through his eyes when they were in bed. He felt the hand tighten in his hair slightly and he stopped moving. "Close," he choked out.

Paul smiled, letting Daryl wonder if he was going to have to hold it, have to wait, have to worry if he could. But it was late and they had to be up in six hours. "When you feel me come, you can," he said, nipping Daryl's bottom lip between his teeth. The thrusts got impossibly harder after that, but only for a moment.

Paul bit the inside of his cheek to keep from yelling as he felt himself explode and then Daryl's wrist was flying as he moaned, low and whorish. Paul could feel Daryl's come hit his stomach as the older man started swearing, his ass clenching down on Paul's cock as his orgasm tore through him, leaving him breathless and gasping for air. 

Daryl collapsed prematurely, still feeling his orgasm rocking through him, but unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to think. And then he felt Paul pull out, leaving him empty and loose. He whimpered at the loss, turning and pressing his face into the man's chest as he laid down beside Daryl in the bed.

Paul's arms came up, feeling Daryl's body trembling. "Baby, baby," he murmured. "Shhh. It's all right." He kissed the man's temple, fingertips gently massaging feeling back into Daryl's muscles. "We're going to sleep now, okay? Early morning."

Daryl whimpered, nodding, wondering if he'd be able to walk properly the next day. "Paul?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Daryl." Paul waited until he'd stopped shaking before he got up to turn out the lights and set the alarm on his clock. Then he crawled back into bed and held Daryl until he fall asleep before he got up to clean the bathroom and put the equipment back in the box. He was only going to be running on two hours of sleep the next day, but it had been worth it.


End file.
